


Prince of Persia 2008 Sequel

by CatsoftheApocalypse



Category: Prince of Persia (Video Game 2008)
Genre: Ahriman is being a prick, Elika needs all the help she can get, Gen, Ormazd is still in hiding, Other, The Prince needs all the help he can get, the world is going down the drain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2625962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsoftheApocalypse/pseuds/CatsoftheApocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Ubisoft has another money-cow they're gonna milk until it's dead, I thought I'd give it a shot...</p><p>Elika left to search for the Ahura, and the Prince is all alone in a dark, corrupted world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After long weeks of searching, Elika has managed to collect a whole bunch of people. Now she has to convince them of her cause, of everybody's cause.

The white cloth stopped fluttering around her in the crisp night air, as her bare feet lowered onto the floor of the balcony.The broken marble structures that once built its balustrade and even the columns supporting it from below seemed to glimmer in the soft, ice-blue light emanating from every revealed part of her skin.  
"You are Ahura." She called out to the densely packed square below her. As she did, even the last few persons turned their heads to look up at her. Some stared in amazement.  
"You are the people of old. You are MY people." With that, she lifted again from the marble balcony and descended into the middle of the square, right among the crowd.  
"We are one." She added.  
"For many moons I have searched the plains of our lands, the plains of the Ahura, and the lands beyond for my people. I asked. I scanned the desert plains. I begged. And after a while, I began to pray again. Though I feared that Ormazd had left us, I prayed, and I asked for his guidance. And as I found each of you, alone or in groups, I bid you come here tonight, for only one reason." She took a long,deep breath, and the night was silent but for the wind moaning through the empty halls of yet another broken palace, once home to a legacy as rich as her own.  
"I need your help. Our lands need you. The tree of life was cut down. The temple has crumbled to dust and become one with the sands of the desert. Ahriman is free."


	2. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero is at a loss. All he has been doing so far is running away, with an occassional fight thrown in. He's tired.

He jumped over the remnants of a garden wall and rolled through a small opening at the base of the houses wall, leaving the corrupted birds on the other side. He then ran through several empty hallways and a few dusty rooms before he allowed his tortured body a few minutes of rest.  
He crumbled into a heap in what seemed to have once been a bedroom and reflected on how he had come to be here. After Elika had left him, he tried to find a way to banish Ahriman on his own. He doubted that Elika would find any of her people, and even if she did, that they would abandon the lives they had built for a probably futile fight. However, he hoped the best for her sake, but at least to see her again before the end.  
The rapidly spreading Corruption was everything but helpful considering his purpose. Ahriman was not oblivious of his and the Princess' intentions and seemed to corrupt anything that might have been any degree of helpful first.  
The worst, or rather hardest, part was that a few night after his separation from Elika, the darkness had started to invade his sleep. He hardly ever closed his eyes anymore, for fear that he might fall into a slumber and give in to the whispers Ahriman sent to him. He was tired of fighting.

 

>>>She abandoned you… Left you alone in the dark… Alone… For me to take… To take… Take as my own… How much?... How much could you mean?... After all… A boy from the steets… Little more than a beggar… Did you think you could succeed?... Did she?... Or did she merely keep you as company?... Company… In her loneliness… In the void… You crave her… You want her close… So close… She could be… Be yours…  
You have but to ask.<<<

 

He awoke from his uneasy, restless dreams. Shooting up straight, he shook the dust off his clothes as best he could and turned to face the Darkness for a little more time. The day was not yet done.  
For now, he was safe as can be in the dusty, old merchant's house, so he allowed himself to walk slowly instead of running from an enemy he had no reasonable hope of defeating. The sheathed, bejeweled dagger he had picked up a few days ago was heavy in his pocket and hit his leg with with every step he did.

 

_More and more of the dark shapes he knew all too well by now manifested on the marketplace, all seemingly maintaining a connection to its center, where the biggest, most threatening shape of a Corrupted he had yet encountered stood. He was Taller and burlier even than the Warrior. He had had problems enough defeating the Warrior, and that had been with Elika's help._  
 _He stayed in the light cast by a single oillamp that was miraculously burning right on the corner where he had entered the place for as long as he could. Although he was afraid of the horrors that might lurk in the shadows, he had no choice but to move out of the light when the figures began to make their way towards him, and surprisinly swiftly. He had to act, and quick. Without Elika, this would be anything but easy. Not that it had been easy with her, but now... He knew he woyuld not be able to reacvh the center of the square unharmed if he went for the direct way. But he had to reach the Corrupted in the middle and defeat him, or he would not get out of this alive. He sensed that, defeating him, all the other shadows around him would be no more either. He took a last deep breath before what might be the end, closed his eyes and wished Elika well, and then rushed into the shadows before he could lose his will to try. He ran a little way around the edges of the square until he found an entrance to one of the houses. He figured that he had a chance, of he could find a way to climb along the wooden structure overhead that stretched from the tops of all the the houses to the place's center, where it supported a cage dangling right above the head of his threatening enemy. In a best-case-scenario the Corrupted would not notice his trying to sneak up on him, but he did not want to rely on this possibility. He entered the house and headed directly towards the staircase. He had nearly reached the trapdoor leading to the roof when a shady, shapeless figure appeared just three steps above him. He did not leave the Corruption enough time to take a more or less defined shape, but drew his notched sword and, in one swift movement, cut off its semi-head. Skipping two steps at a time, he reached the trapdoor, opened it, and climbed out to the roof. From above, the situation seemed even more horrible._  
 _While he was inside, even more figures had appeared below, and the square was now so dense with them that the cobblestones on the ground could not be seen. Only right in the middle, around the Corrupted, there was a little empty space. He had little time, for all the figures now directed their semi-faces towards him, as if they were to attack shortly. Therefore, he quicky climed the wooden beam starting at the roof's edge. He knew he had to make hast, so he ran along the structure threatening to crumble beneath his very feet at any moment._  
 _Shortly before he reached the center, where all the beams met in a star-shaped formation, he heard a loud crack, and the wood beneath his feet started to descend towards the cobblestones. He lunged forward, luckily being able to grab a hold of one of the cages metal bars, holding on tight as the beam he had just walked on crashed to the floor. His situation had, of course, not increased in likelyhood to succeed, thanks to this ordeal. He was now dangling directly over the Corrupted's head, and still he had no idea how to to proceed now. How to get down and attack. But at least about getting down to his foe, he needn't have worried. While the Warrior's most dangerous asset had been his burly form and brute force, in addition to those the Corrupted below him also had a tool reminiscent of a whip. With that, he now lashed out at him, and when the whip had wrapped tightly around his left leg, he felt a sharp pull, lost his grip on the metal and fell to the floor, landing on top of the wooden debris, its sharp points and angles poking into his back. Yet, he knew he could not worry about that just now, so he scrambled to his feet to face what needed facing. He drew his sword and scrutinized his opponent, as he did the same. His frame looked almost square from this angle, his short, stout legs supporting his burly body. Where his face should have been, there was nothing but a dark cavity, a black hole, filled with nothing but corruption. Dozens of jewels which he might have been tempted to steal just a few months ago were embedded in his enemy's black shape, brilliantly shining dots of colour among the darkness of the other one's frame. Suddenly, his opponent flicked his whip again, resulting not in the usual noise of a whip cutting through air, but in a deep, hollow threatening sound, like a drum in the dark of the night. And then he spoke._  
 _"I've waited for you." he boomed. "Ever since the Others failed to finish you. You are my type of person. A thief. Scum from the streets. Born in the dirt of a distant land. What purpose do you even have? Oh, how have I missed ending scum like you! Shall we play?"_  
 _With that, he hurled himself forward, leaving no way of escape apart from sliding through the space between his feet. After doing so, he rose to his feet again as fast as he could, and attacked the Corrupted's back. How he managed to climb up the Other's back he did not know. Nonetheless, he found himself standing on his shoulders, preparing to take a mighty swing at his head, when he found himself grabbed by a giant hand, and smashed to the ground._  
 _He gathered himself as quickly as possible and collected his thoughts. For the brief second he was standing on the other's shoulders, he had seen that one of the clusters of jewels on his chest was more than just that. In fact, it seemed to be a handle. A dagger's handle, perhaps. It must have been stuck there for a reason. In the meantime, the Corrupted was towering over him again, hitting the ground with his whip, producing the same deep, dark sound as before. And he spoke again._  
 _"You see it is pointless." he uttered. "None ever escaped me. One tried. But I ended her, too."_  
 _"Who are you?" he asked the Corrupted, breathlessly._  
 _"What is it to you? My name is knowledge you will not have for long. But have it, if you must. I am the Treasurer. Once servant to a king, now I have servants of my own." He made a broad gesture to he dark shapes still crowding the marketplace, as if standing guard over the fight in their midst._  
 _He took the sweeping motion as an opportunity to throw his sword towards the other's wrost, where it embedded itself, leaving him weaponless.The impact drew the Corrupted's attention, whose gaze withdrew to rest on the sword lodged in the limb, leaving him with a second chance at attack. Without hesitation, he lunged towards his opponent, reached for the handle he had seen earlier, and pulled it out of the Treasurer's chest, only to plunge it back into the wound fiercely several times, right where his heart would be, if he but had one. Astonished, the Treasurer tuned his head toward his chest, where now sat several wounds, spilling forth black mist, but also with a bright light shining from them. The mass of black figures in the marketplace cringed while the Treasurer himself, now in obvious discomfort, dropped his own weapon and reached for the one that had been pulled from his chest._  
 _"Who do you think you are???" he roared. "Nothing but a thief! Not even your little whore of a princess took you seriously enough to take you with her. You're worthless."_  
 _"And you're not the first one to tell me that." was the short reply to his taunt. He reached up, dug his armored hand deep into one of the wounds he had created and swung himself upwards and around, landing landing on the Corrupted's broad shoulders. In the same moting, he reached around his black neck and drew the blade of the dagger he was still holding across the darkness of his throat. As with the wounds on his chest, the deep cut immediately began to spill out the black mist of Corruption as well as the same blinding white light. He jumped off his opponent's shoulders, landing as far from him as possible, and watched as the Treasurer clutched his hands to his throat and wailed in agony. The surrounding shapes began to disintegrate as the Corrupted's "skin" started to crack open like a dried-out riverbed in an ongoing dryspell. Through even the tinniest of those cracks, the same light began to seep out as well, until he had to close his eyes, being left with only his hearing to help him analyse his surroundings. He listened as the Corrupted began to scream, but he missed the sight of him expanding, before the process reversed and he suddenly imploded with a sound similar to a clap of thunder. Upon this sound, he opened his eyes, finding both the Treasurer and his minions gone, only some of the black fog still remaining, which he watched slowly seep into the ground between the shhreds of wood from his earlier fall._  
 _As the adrenaline began to fade from his system, he noticed a tingle in the hand holding the dagger that actually spread through the whole right side of his body, and to some degree the left as well. Curiously, he scrutuinzed the weapon. Its handle was cowered in jewels just like the ones that had been embedded in the Treasurers shape, only on a much smaller, miniscule scale. It was truly a thing of beauty, and apparently of more danger han its appearance would convey._  
 _He still felt the tingle of magic in his limbs, but he also knew he had to keep moving and needed to find a reasonably safe place to rest for the night. He gave a small sigh and looked aroung in hopes of finding something, perhaps a piece of leather or cloth, to wrap around the blade for safety, but he came up empty. As he took a step forward, his foot landed on something he was perfectly sure had not been there just a blink of an eye ago - a piece of silverwork. He stooped down to pick it up, finding the sheath to be an ideal fit for the dagger. It had an intricate design etched into it, simple compared to the handles splendour, yet somehow a perfect match._  
 _'Well then,' he thought as he picked up his sword, 'time to keep moving.'_

 

He shook his head to dispel the memory, dragging his mind back to the present. He had just found that the house had a rather large private bath and decided to make good use of it. The filth of the last few weeks disgusted him and he felt the desperate need to clean himself and his clothing.  
He put down his weapons and gauntlet at the waters edge, taking the dagger out of his pocket, before he immersed himself, fuly clothed, into the bath. Piece by piece, he rid himself of the garments he wore, rubbing them against each other to get as much dirt as possible out of the fibres. After pressing as much water as he could from the fabric, he hung each item over a metal bar between two pillars at the edge, right above the place he had left his weapons. He then proceeded to clean his own skin. He had found a brush in the vast room, which he used to scrub the dirt from the depth of his pores before he went under completely to wash his hair as clean as one could without soap. Then he let his body float in the cool water, which eased the pain of all the cuts and bruises on his frame, while his clothes began to dry in the warm air that freely invaded the house while the sun burned outside, slowly beginning to lower itself to the horizon.  
It was almost eerily quiet as he once again lost himself in thought, and by the time he came to and got out of the water his clothes ware barely even damp anymre, and the sun had diappeared from the sky, only a soft orange glow remaining at the horizon. He therefore decided to stay in the house for the night after all.He found another bedroom, dusted off the bed, stored his weapons under the pillow and laid to rest. As every night in recent weeks, his sleep was uneasy, corruption always lurking at the edges, but this time, to his surprise, Ahriman did not whisper to him.  
He did not think to ask himself whether this eery calm at the lack of audible intrusion into his dream might only be the calm before the storm.


End file.
